The Interloper

Moonlight on the wet cobblestones glistened like silver fishes skimming along the surface of an onyx river. The tall brick walls like crusty black sentinels, that enchanting cool blueish light shone in the uppermost windows enhancing the stony giant guardians with eyes like the eyes of God.

Halfway down this alley sat three dumpsters like sleeping hulking beasts…the one in the middle seems to be waking up as the lid slowly lifts---just an inch, then two. A small grey arm reaches out, at the end is a little hand that pats around the edge of the bin, then grabs hold of the rim. A second little grey hand pushes a croissant out the opening, letting it fall to the ground. Next comes an apple core, half an éclair, a slice of ham, a mysterious lump in tin foil, and lastly, a tuna tin that clatters to the cobbles, making Charles wince.

He pops his furry head out and looks up. It’s his favorite time of night---when the moonlight beams through the alley at just the right angle to light up fishes and eerily glowing eyes. He climbs all the way out, mesmerized, and sits looking up. He knows this vision will last only a short while, until the moon moves on to light up another alley or meadow or copse in the woods. There’s been nights when Charles has followed the moon until it simply slips away like a fat and elusive ghost, taking its ethereal glow with it. He’s a bit of a moonologist---his word for his observations---

“Hiya!”

Charles jumps. His thick grey fur poufs out involuntarily. He knows this makes him appear bigger, more fearsome. Ha! He thinks he looks like a great big pom-pom, a real poufster. He’s annoyed by the intrusion on this night. Full moons were his momo’s favorite. She’d been the inspiration, his mentor and guide, and chief moonologist. He peered over the edge to glare at the interloper.

The raccoon on the ground waved. “Hiya!”

“Yeah. You said that.” Charles noted the schmear of chocolate on the annoying one’s snout. “You ate my éclair.”

“Well, ya mate…it just sorta fell from the sky before me. I LOVE eclairs. They’re my fav!”

“Yeah, mine too,” Charles growled as he slid-tumbled off the lid to confront this…this…éclair thief/interrupter-of-a-sacred rite. Again, his annoying pelt was poufed all over. ‘AAaaaaagh!’ was another uncontrollable thought.

Charles snatched the last of his ham from the other raccoon’s hand. “Okay, just go---”

“Hey! Haven’t we met before?’

“No, I---”

“Yeah matey! I know Youse! We did that heist together! Yeeeaaah…”

Charles said, “I don’t think so mate.”

“Yeah, yeah…member that garden? It was August, the toms were ripe. There was a cherry tree!”

Charles said, “No. wasn’t me.”

“Hmm. I guess we all do look alike.” He reached for the tuna can and again Charles became a poufster.

“Oh. Okay. Sorry.”

The raccoon looked sorry, so Charles’ fur calmed. “No harm done. Though I did scavenge that grub for meself…”

“My ‘pologies, mate. Be on my way then…” The raccoon bumbled off. By now the moon had moved on, the alley was pitch black. Charles raised his middle finger to the interloper’s back and headed out the alley in the opposite direction after cleaning out the tuna can. He held the remains of the croissant in his teeth.

He crept stealthily along the streets. This was a section of the city populated by the lowest of human life forms, but he still felt caution was the play of the night. Who knows, these humans may just decide raccoon meat enticing.

Back on the outskirts, he crept into the park where his hollow log awaited. He sat upon the log, ate the croissant, stretched a bit, and stared once more at the stars. Out here, away from city lights, they were brilliant gems…his eyes teared again as he thought of his momo.

“Hiya!”

‘Oh good God. You’ve got to be---’

“Yeah. It is I, Bernard.”

“You followed me here?”

“Um…well…yeah.”

Charles’ fur poufed and he couldn’t control the screech of fury that expelled from his mouth. He fell upon Bernard with claws raking and teeth gnashing.

Bernard was bigger and surprisingly strong. He held Charles away until the smaller raccoon realized he looked like a cartoon character; Charles stopped his tantrum and said, “What is it you want?”

“I have this dilemma see…there’s this house. I’ve been livin high on the spoils these humans toss---rich they seem with all they’s be tossin out. Well, seems they got themselves a dog.”

“Yeah, so? Can’t you take the dog out? You’re a raccoon for chrisakes---teeth, claws, meaness…”

“Well, that just it…I have no meaness. I mean to say---”

“You’re a chickenshit.”

“This dog’s big mate! With long-ass teeth and a crazed look in his eye! Be like fightin a…a wolf!”

“So what does this have to do with me?”

“Ise heard of you. Of your reputation an all…you’re fearsome! Is this not true?”

Charles basked in the glow of praise as if it were moonglow. He said, “If I help you get rid of this dog, what’s in it for me?”

Bernard said, “Well half the spoils of course! They’ve been known to toss entire loaves of raisin bread only tinged with green. Pudding cups that only smell a teensy bit off. The ends of roast beef---charred nice n crunchy…”

“Okay, okay. You had me at pudding. When do we do this dog attack?”

“Well, the dog’s in the yard all the time. Been scoping the sitch for two weeks. They don’t let it inside and I haven’t seen them feed it, so it’ll be nice and hungry for critters like youse and me.”

Charles nodded. This would be a challenge. His reputation was like his resume it seemed now. He had fought dogs before and won. But they were poodley or chihuahua types, ready to bark but faster to run back through their doggy doors to safety. The idea of pudding and raisin bread won him over. He said, “Okay. I help you get rid of the dog. You give me half the spoils, say for a week? Then I never see your masked face again.”

“Sure…yeah! Okay.”

Charles said, “Let’s do this.”

Bernard raised a fist, but Charles just stared. Bernard said, “Okay then…” he lowered his little fist and set off towards the city’s outskirts where the big human homes were.

The two raccoons swiftly made their way to the home’s backyard. They peeked over the white picket fence. Charles smiled as he viewed the lush lawn and veggie garden tucked in the back. From there he could see the red orbs of tomatoes on the vine. He could smell the sweet scent of spring peas. As much as he loved refuse, he craved even more fresh veggies.

“Hey!” whispered Bernard harshly in his ear. “Hello…earth to Charles…”

“Yeah!” said Charles, annoyedly. “I don’t see any dog.”

“Watch this…” Bernard slunk through the fence and approached the edge of the lawn. A beacon of yellowy bright light suddenly spotlighted him and from the porch came a furious, deep and heavy barking!

Bernard ran back to Charles. Panting, he said, “You see?”

Charles observed the dog on the chain. It was indeed huge and big toothed, dark and scruffy and mean.

Bernard said, “The two of us, we can take him.”

Charles nodded. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

The two raccoons set out towards the dark porch. They were as silent as cats.

So was the dog.

Bernard crept close behind Charles, who was looking left and right for sign of the ferocious mutt. His nose twitched, sniffing. Bernard’s fur was poufed but Charles’s was not.

“RA RA RA RAOR!!!!” the dog came at them with terrific speed, its toenails skittering against the porch floorboards. Directly in front of Charles, the dog was a giant, a monster…one of long white teeth and eyes that shone red with intense hunger.

Charles faced the beast, his fur again poufed, but this time he was glad it made him seem bigger. He needed all the help he could get. And…speaking of help…where was Bernard? He was no longer behind him.

Charles backed up fast, until the chain the dog was on went taut. The dog yelped in pain as it struggled to tear Charles from limb to limb in its big, long jaws. The dog pawed the ground, tearing up tufts of earth tither and yon. It howled in frustration. It sank to its belly and…wept softly.

“Hey! Way to go mate!”

Charles turned to find Bernard the Meek raising a palm for a high five.

Charles said, “Dude, give it a rest.”

The look on Charles’s face made Bernard shut it.

Charles then went to the dog who lifted an eyebrow but remained still. Charles used his dexterous little hands to work the clasp on the dog’s collar. The dog was free within seconds…and grateful.

“Whoa.” Said Bernard, in awe.

Charles knew that having Bernard around, though annoying, was good for his image. Rumors of his feats of bravery were confirmed again and again by the mouth and affluence the fat raccoon had.

Six months later…

Bernard and Charles are in a backyard…Smitty, the beagle-mastiff mix stands by ready to maim or create havoc…as the raccoons trespass across the yard. They bypass a weedy garden gone to seed, a patch of wild blackberries, and a gravel path to the barn near the field before the woods.

There is a cabin there. A shack really. In its backyard is a small area surrounded by chain link fencing. In the center is a chicken coop. But instead of chickens, there are female dogs---a retriever, a Shepard, and a Bernese Mountain dog. They are sick and dying. The raccoons invade the home while Smitty reassures the dogs they are there to help.

Inside the home are cages and crates of every size. Puppies, lethargic and sad, rush to the grated doors, the yipping and whinnying is ear-splitting. The stench in the home is eye-watering---urine and feces and…death.

“What in tarnation!” A man has come from inside the house somewhere. He’s got a long gun in his arms.

But he’s expecting another human invading his puppy mill. Not two raccoons and a big-ass dog.

:”BOOOM!” goes his gun as he fires at Charles who is too quick to get blown away. In seconds, the raccoons tear his eyes out, dig into his chest and soft tissues, and tear his throat out.

Its Smitty’s job to report this incident to the local sheriff.

In the yard, as the puppies are being taken out, Charles looks up at the once again full moon and smiles. His momo would be proud. He had finally found a calling in the form of an annoying---

“Hiya!”

‘Ugh’ “Hello Bernard.”

“Got ‘nother case on the westside. Dalmatians bred for fur coats.”

“I’ll be right down.”